


Four Hundred and One Days

by fuzzytomato



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst with a Happy Ending, Break Up, M/M, Magic, Magic Revealed, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-23
Updated: 2015-12-23
Packaged: 2018-04-30 15:41:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,938
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5169269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fuzzytomato/pseuds/fuzzytomato
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Merlin admits he made a mistake and he's miserable. But he can't confide in anyone because it was all a secret anyway. And the one person he wants to talk to is not talking to him. Merry Christmas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Four Hundred and One Days

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bluenorth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluenorth/gifts).



> Hi Viennajones – I hope you enjoy this! I used your prompts of secret relationship, Christmas, break up, angst with a happy ending, modern au, and magic
> 
> Thanks to V for the beta.

**Day 398**

 

“Mum, I’m home,” Merlin said, shouldering through the door of their small cottage. He dropped his bags on the floor and brushed the flakes of snow from his beanie and scarf.

“Merlin?” his mother called from the kitchen. “Is that you?”

“And Gwaine,” Merlin yelled back.

Hunith rounded the corner, a bright smile lighting up her features. She had flour in her hair and oven mitts on and she wore the apron Merlin and Will had painted for her when they were six. It had their handprints on it, as well as globby renditions of gingerbread men and candy canes.

“I thought I was picking you up from the station tomorrow,” she said, pulling Merlin in for a hug.

He bent down and squeezed his mother in return. He held on a little longer than necessary, buried his nose in her neck and inhaled the smell of sweet cakes and biscuits as she kissed his hair. He didn’t realize how much he needed that, how much he’d missed her recently.

“Not that I’m upset you’re home early,” she continued, releasing him and helping him out of his coat, her oven mitts becoming tangled in his scarf.

“Gwaine drove me. He’s on his way to see his sister and said he’d drop me by. He can spend the night, yeah?”

“Of course. Gwaine is always welcome here.” They finally managed to extricate Merlin from his coat and he hung it up on the stand near the door. With a flick of magic, Merlin brushed the snow from his clothes and from his shoes.

Hunith patted Merlin’s cheek and brushed a few long strands of hair from his forehead. “You look tired, love.”

Merlin shrugged. “Long drive.”

“Don’t listen to him, Hunith,” Gwaine said, entering the house. He stamped his feet, snow falling in clumps onto the wood floor. “He’s been a sad sack for a few weeks now. No one can figure out why though. Spends all his time in the library or in his room wrapped up in a quilt.”

“That’s not true,” Merlin said, but his protest was drowned out by Hunith and Gwaine greeting each other.

Hunith scooped Gwaine into a hug and he kissed her cheek and Gwaine made Hunith giggle with some joke he made, like they were old friends. Merlin rolled his eyes, and received a swat on his arm from his mother.

Other than Will, Gwaine was Merlin’s closest friend. It didn’t start out like that, by any means. Merlin’s first days at university were filled with anxiety and loneliness until he had met a girl named Gwen in one of his literature classes, and from there, he’d met a friendly group of students – Gwen’s brother, Elyan, and his best friend, Percival. And their footie mate Gwaine who kind of dated Elena and was friends with Leon who dated Morgana who was half-sister to Arthur.

_Arthur._

And Merlin froze, the ache at just thinking his name so swift and so devastating he had to suck in a quick breath, and close his eyes against the gaping raw hole in his chest that Arthur’s absence led to. He wanted to lie down on the floor, curl into a ball, and hope no one noticed.

“Sweetheart, are you all right?”

Merlin opened his eyes and mustered a smile. “Fine, mum.”

“Liar,” Gwaine said, moving past him into the living room.

Hunith studied him for a long moment, her gaze thoughtful, her expression a little sad. Merlin couldn’t take that, couldn’t take the look she’d given him when he was bullied as a child, or when his cat had run away, or when his magic had gone a bit haywire. That expression always seemed to break him open, and his secrets and insecurities would gush out in a tangle of words and a stream of tears.

He couldn’t do that now. He couldn’t, not with Gwaine there, not when the hurt was still so painful that the mere thought of _his_ name could send Merlin running in his room to dive under a nest of blankets.

Merlin looked away, and out of the window. He watched the snow drift on the wind. “I really am fine. A little homesick, I think. Better, now I’m here.”

Hunith sighed, and it wasn’t one of relief, but of a quiet resignation that she knew Merlin wouldn’t talk until he was ready. In this case, maybe never.

“Well then, nothing a little home cooked meal can’t fix. Good thing I started a roast this morning. I was planning it for tomorrow but why wait?”

“Thanks, mum.”

She smiled warmly then turned on her heel and went back to the kitchen.

“Does a roast sound good to you, Gwaine?”

“Anything you make sounds good to me, Hunith. I don’t know how Merlin turned out so skinny with a mum who can cook like you.”

Merlin entered the living room. Gwaine had already made himself at home, his boots by the fire, his socked feet on the table as he sprawled along the cushions of the couch. There was a tree in the corner lit with fairy lights, a few wrapped packages underneath. Merlin toed off his shoes and set them next to Gwaine’s. He trailed his hand over the mantle, smiling softly at the stocking with a large M in the middle, another one hung next to it with a W.

This was good, familiar. Merlin could handle a Christmas at home with his mum and Will. He could handle being surrounded by people he loved and who loved him in equal measure.

If he were honest with himself, he was avoiding his life in Camelot, but Merlin wasn’t going to be honest with himself. Not right yet. There was plenty of time for that. For now, he wanted to sink into the couch, drink cocoa, and watch a cheesy holiday film. He wanted his grandmother’s afghan draped over his shoulders, and his feet warmed by the fire.

He could mend his broken heart here with tinsel and popcorn string and biscuits and hugs from his mother, and no one in Camelot would be the wiser.

“Merlin, dear, please go change the sheets on your bed. I haven’t got round to it yet and I don’t think Gwaine wants to sleep on musty linen.”

Merlin laughed softly at that. If only Hunith knew the places Gwaine had slept before she wouldn’t worry about musty linens. As it were, Merlin would go upstairs and use a little magic to air them out. No one would be the wiser.

“You heard your mother, Merlin,” Gwaine said, waving his hand as if he were royalty. “Don’t want the guest on your smelly bed.”

“Then you can sleep on the floor,” Merlin replied with a cheeky grin.

“Oi!” Gwaine grabbed a pillow from the couch and threw it. Merlin dodged and the pillow bounced harmlessly against the stair railing.

Merlin clucked his tongue. “Such poor manners.”

“I’ll show you poor manners.” Gwaine jumped to his feet and lunged.

Merlin laughed and darted for the stairs, Gwaine on his heels. The sounds of their footsteps drowned out Hunith’s admonishments from the kitchen.

Yes, Merlin could do this. He could survive for a few weeks in the comfort of his childhood home and when he returned to uni at the end of the holiday break, Merlin would be well and truly over Arthur Pendragon.

 

**Day 1**

 

Merlin tentatively followed Gwen, his hands gripping his cafeteria tray with a white knuckled grip.

She had sat next to Merlin in his literature class and smiled at him and then invited him to lunch. Merlin was very far away from home, on his own in the city for the first time, and he was slightly terrified and very lonely.

What Gwen didn’t tell him was that lunch also included her older brother and a bevy of fit individuals sitting around a table, talking and laughing loudly, and throwing straw wrappers at each other.

“Pick up another stray, Gwen?” the one with blond hair asked, grin going wide when he cast a glance at Merlin standing awkwardly behind her.

“Be nice, Arthur,” she said, placing her tray in the empty spot at the head of the table. “Merlin is new and quite sweet.”

She gestured for Merlin to squeeze in the empty seat between a bloke with biceps as big as his head and another bloke with long shiny hair and a flirty smile. A girl sat across from him, with tangled hair, and long pale limbs. She put her head on her hand and watched him with a small grin at the corners of her pink mouth.

Flirty smile tossed his hair and winked. “Quite sweet, huh?”

“Don’t start, Gwaine,” Gwen said, pointing her fork at him in a threatening manner.

“What did I do?”

From there, Merlin learned everyone’s names, and tried desperately to keep up with the conversation, but it was full of in-jokes and references. Everything was quick and comfortable, the way things are with a group of people who have known each other for a long time, and Merlin was the odd man out. He hunched over his tray, picked at his salad of wilted lettuce, and tried not to bump into Percival’s arm, as close as they were squeezed around the table.

But as much as Merlin wanted to shrink down and disappear, he couldn’t.

“Professor Gaius? He’s an old coot. I can’t believe the university still allows him to teach.”

Merlin looked up and keenly tuned into the conversation.

“Isn’t he one of the university’s top history professors though?” Gwen asked. “I hear he’s brilliant.”

Arthur rolled his eyes. “Probably because he’s so old he was eye witness to most of the events.”

The group snickered and Merlin straightened from his slouch. He narrowed his eyes.

Arthur continued. “Get this, he said in class this morning that there was magic still in the world. Magic. Actual magic. And he didn’t mean figuratively.”

Gwaine smiled. “Oh come now, Arthur. Even you can’t deny the magic of love.” He batted his eyelashes. Percival snorted. Elyan threw a chip at him.

Arthur raised an eyebrow. “I can, but that’s not the point. He meant sword and sorcery type magic,” he said, wiggling his fingers. “Seriously, that old man belongs in a home.”

Merlin slammed down his fork. “And you’re such the expert are you?” he said, voice raised. “Know everything about what’s in the world, do you?”

Arthur leveled his gaze at Merlin, and his blue eyes glittered with condescension. Anger burned swift and hot in Merlin’s middle, and his own magic licked at his spine, his fingers tingling with it. He clenched his jaw, and willed it to calm down, only years of practice keeping it in check.

“And what do you know?”

“I know you’re a prat who makes fun of people and things you don’t understand.”

“Christ, Merlin. It was a joke.”

“It didn’t sound like one,” Merlin shot back.

“It was rather mean,” Elena said, placing her hand on Arthur’s arm. He gripped his spoon and Merlin thought it in danger of being bent.

Arthur ignored her. “Taking this a bit personal, Merlin. Quite defensive. Let me guess, you got shoved into a few lockers yourself growing up.”

There were a few admonishments from others around the table, but Arthur ignored those too, and stared at Merlin, sharp and critical.

Merlin shook with rage. He pressed his lips together, mouth going into a taut line. “It is personal,” he said, low and terse. “Professor Gauis is my uncle.”

Arthur blanched, and the table went quiet—the type of quiet that becomes a physical presence. Merlin couldn’t take it.

He stood, his chair sliding back violently, and picked up his tray.

“Thank you, Gwen, for inviting me to meet your friends,” he said, still meeting Arthur’s gaze. “But I think I’ll find my own.”

“Oh, Merlin,” Gwen said, but Merlin didn’t stick around to hear what she had to say. He picked his way across the cafeteria, dumping the contents of his tray into the trash, and stalked out of the double glass doors.

The cloudy sky matched Merlin’s mood and he hunched down in his jacket and hoped the drizzle wouldn’t turn into a torrent as he started the walk to his room. He made it three steps before he heard the slap of trainers on the pavement behind him and then a hand slammed down on his shoulder.

Merlin did not screech. Except he did, and he flailed his arms as he was spun around to face Arthur.

“Merlin!” Arthur said, reaching out with his other hand and steadying him.

Merlin clutched his jumper and breathed harshly, his heart humping erratically, like it would pound straight out of his chest. Arthur’s grip was warm and strong and Merlin leaned into it, just for a moment, before pulling away.

“What the hell?”

“Sorry,” Arthur said, but the smirk he wore belied his actual concern. “No, I’m serious,” he continued as a reply to Merlin’s unimpressed expression. “I’m sorry for startling you and for being a dick at lunch.”

Merlin exhaled. He wrapped his fingers around the strap of his bag.

“I may have overreacted.”

“A little,” Arthur said.

Merlin twisted his lips. “Really?”

“But I shouldn’t have said those things about your uncle. Gwen is right. He’s a brilliant historian. If a little….” Arthur shrugged and made a hand gesture.

Merlin didn’t respond, both eyebrows raised, expectant. He wasn’t going to give Arthur an out, even if Merlin could admit Gaius was… weird. In fact, Merlin kind of liked watching Arthur flounder.

At lunch, Arthur was all straight posture and confidence, his blond hair shining in the fluorescent cafeteria lights. He laughed unabashedly at Gwaine’s antics, and he had a warm smile for Gwen and caught Elena’s water effortlessly before she knocked it over. He talked footie with Percival and Elyan, and history with Leon.

Arthur was magnetic, everyone pulled toward him, even Merlin. And Merlin believed that he wouldn’t often see Arthur grasping for words or with his cheeks pink with a blush. He needed to savor this moment.

Arthur stared helplessly, and Merlin’s magic flared in his gut.

He trailed off. “Merlin, I’m faltering.”

Merlin sighed. “I’ll grant you, he's eccentric.”

“Oh, thank God. That was excruciating. I thought that awkward moment would last forever.”

Snorting, Merlin hefted his bag higher on his shoulder. “Tell me, Arthur. If you did ever meet someone who said they had magic, what would you do?”

Arthur crossed his arms, looking a bit perplexed, his eyebrows drawn down, but he answered anyway. “I’d have them psychiatrically assessed. Why? Do you believe in magic?”

“About as much as Gwaine does.”

Arthur threw back his head and laughed, showing off the long column of his throat. His shirt pulled down at the side, exposing a length of collarbone, and his Adam’s apple bobbed. He reached out again and clasped Merlin’s shoulder and suddenly, Merlin knew two things. He could never tell Arthur about his magic if he wanted to keep him in any way.

And he was totally, utterly, fucking screwed.

Arthur gave him a small shake. “We’re going to be good friends, Merlin. I can tell.”

Merlin smiled as his stomach did summersaults.

Yes, he was completely fucked.

 

**Day 92**

 

“How many bloody layers are you wearing?” Arthur said, pulling at Merlin’s clothes, skirting his hands beneath the hems of Merlin’s shirts until he found skin and rested his hot palms on Merlin’s flushed body.

Merlin laughed, buzzed and happy, and he cupped Arthur’s face in his hands, pulled him close, and kissed him.

Arthur was an excellent kisser, assertive and thorough. Merlin melted into it, threaded his fingers in Arthur’s thick hair and held on, allowed Arthur to fuck his mouth with his tongue, bite at his lips, and possess him in a way he’d never let anyone else.

“Fuck, Merlin,” Arthur murmured, kissing his way down Merlin’s throat, latching onto Merlin’s collarbone and sucking a stinging bruise.

Merlin let his head fall back against the wall as he arched into Arthur’s mouth.

“That’s the idea,” he said, giddy and breathless. His heart pounded and his skin tingled, and everything was wonderful and terrifying at the same time.

Arthur had kissed him. Arthur had dragged Merlin to his flat with intent, his hands a constant presence on Merlin’s body since they'd left the bar on the pretense that Merlin had had too many drinks. Merlin didn’t want to lie to his friends, but he also didn’t want to share this, share Arthur with them, and if he had a chance of one night with him, he was going to take it. Fuck, he was going to take it and never look back.

Chuckling, Arthur skimmed his hands up to Merlin’s ribs, Merlin’s clothes bunching around Arthur’s wrists.

“Why haven’t we done this before now?” Arthur said, attempting yet again to divest Merlin of his hoodie and jumper and shirt.

Merlin pushed him away and wriggled out of his clothes, desperate for Arthur to touch him again, bereft for those few moments when he wasn’t connected to Arthur by lips or fingertips.

He dropped his clothes to the floor of Arthur’s flat and Arthur wasted no time in diving back in. He touched Merlin _everywhere_ —the small of his back, the span of his ribs, the inside of his wrist—greedy and intense.

“I don’t know,” Merlin mumbled into Arthur’s mouth. They kissed again, and Merlin fumbled for the buttons on Arthur’s shirt, the deep bite of want painful and throbbing in Merlin’s core. “I’ve wanted you since the day you pushed Cenred into the fountain on Morgana’s behalf.” 

He only managed to push one tiny button through a hole, and Arthur batted Merlin’s hands away. He stepped back, and pulled the shirt over his head, the sound of several seams ripping loud in the otherwise quiet flat.

And then Arthur was on him again, this time skin to skin, and Merlin thought he’d die from it.

“I’ve wanted since you called me a prat in the cafeteria.”

Merlin laughed, delirious, and his magic bubbled out of him, and for a brief second, the lamps in Arthur’s living room flickered on before sputtering out.

“What the fuck was that?” Arthur said, detaching his mouth from Merlin’s jaw, and looking into the adjacent room.

For one frightening moment, Merlin thought Arthur had directed that at him, that he had seen the flash of Merlin’s eyes, but he turned back to Merlin and shrugged. Then they kissed again.

Merlin shoved his magic down, packed it tightly away, wrestled it back in control. He couldn’t let Arthur know. He _couldn’t_ , and though his body thrummed with need, he tempered himself, gentled his kisses. Maybe, he shouldn’t do this. Maybe he shouldn’t give Arthur this if he knew he couldn’t give him everything.

Arthur deserved everything.

Arthur pulled away, splayed his fingers along the line of Merlin’s jaw. “Hey, are you all right? We can stop, if you want.”

The naked concern and affection in Arthur’s gaze and in the tenderness of his touch shredded Merlin’s reservations to ribbons.

Merlin placed his hand over Arthur’s and grinned. “Where’s the bloody bed in this palace?”

Arthur’s eyes darkened, and Merlin’s stomach fluttered as Arthur yanked him down the hall to the bedroom.

They fucked.

There was nothing elegant or loving about it.

It was all sweat and moans and rough handling. Merlin mouthed expletives in the pillow and Arthur moved above him, in him, so thoroughly, so completely, Merlin could’ve shuddered to pieces and been absolutely fine with it. When Arthur wrapped his hand around Merlin’s dick, he came on the first upstroke so hard it left him trembling. Arthur grunted, pistoned his hips a few more times, before he stilled, whispering nothings into the slick skin at the base of Merlin’s neck as he shook.

After, they breathed together in the quiet, only their pinky fingers slotted together, and Merlin stared at the ceiling and knew he was ruined.

Once Merlin’s heart slowed, and he felt more uncomfortable than sated, he shifted, moved to find his clothes and endure a cab ride of shame back to his uni room. But Arthur moved as well, slung his arm across Merlin’s chest and cuddled along Merlin’s side.

Merlin went rigid, shocked into stillness, but Arthur didn’t notice, or if he did, he didn’t care.

“Stay,” he said, his breath a hot ghost against the shell of Merlin’s ear.

“Are you sure?”

“Of course,” Arthur replied on the edge of sleep. “I want you to. I want…” he paused and Merlin waited for him to continue. 

Arthur snored.

Merlin quietly panicked. He was in over his head. He was wrapped in Arthur’s strong arms and he had lube on the backs of his thighs and was lying in a wet spot he was certain was come, but he stayed.

 

**Day 93**

 

Merlin woke to Arthur’s horrible shrieking alarm. And why anyone set an alarm on a Sunday, Merlin didn’t know.

“Fuck,” Arthur muttered.

They had shifted in the night, and Merlin opened his eyes to find his head on Arthur’s chest and his body still enclosed in Arthur’s proprietary hold.

Merlin sat up, gingerly, his body reminding him he’d been enthusiastically fucked the night before.

Arthur reached over and smacked the alarm, knocking it to the floor. It gave one last mournful beep before it shut off.

“Hey,” Arthur said, blinking in the light of morning coming through his blinds.

“Hey,” Merlin responded.

“So.”

“So.”

Merlin held his breath, waited for the awkward part where Arthur told him it was all a mistake and kicked him out. He should make a move for his clothes, but that would mean getting out from under the sheet and well… that didn’t seem very prudent, either.

“I’m thinking shower sex then breakfast.”

Merlin raised his eyebrows. “What?”

“Unless you want regular sex then shower sex then breakfast. I’m up for whatever,” Arthur said, pointedly looking at his lap.

Merlin flushed.

“Really?”

Arthur eyed him, his eyes narrowed, his shrewd gaze locked on the blush working its way up Merlin’s bare chest.

“You thought I was going to kick you out.”

Merlin shrugged. He gripped the sheet tighter and studied the pattern of blue and yellow flowers. Fuck, those sheets had to belong to Morgana. They’d fucked on Morgana’s sheets.

“You did, didn’t you?” There was a slight accusation to Arthur’s tone.

“I didn’t know. We were both tipsy and…” He gestured weakly. “I didn’t know.”

“Let me make myself clear,” Arthur said, he placed his hand on Merlin’s knee and slowly dragged his fingers along the soft skin of Merlin’s inner thigh. “I want to date you. I want to be with you.”

Merlin’s mouth went dry. His dick hardened and his pulse raced. Fuck, he wanted that. He wanted that so much. Arthur may have been a jerk the first day they’d met, but over the last three months, he’d proven himself wonderfully loyal and intelligent and brave, if a bit arrogant.

And Merlin wanted him.

“We shouldn’t tell the others,” he blurted.

Arthur stopped, expression falling, and Merlin hastened to explain.

“I mean, what if… it doesn’t work? What if we hurt each other, it’ll make things awkward in the group, and I’m the new person, and they’re your friends more than they are mine, and Arthur, I’m so alone here. I’m all by—”

Arthur cut him off with a kiss, swept the protests and explanations right out of Merlin’s mouth with his tongue, and Merlin melted into it, pulled Arthur back down to the bed. Arthur hovered over him, and Merlin ran his hands over Arthur’s strong shoulders and down the line of his back.

“Whatever you want,” Arthur said against Merlin’s mouth. “I’ll go along with it. If it means I get to have you.”

“Okay, then. Yes, yes to shower sex then breakfast and you.”

Arthur laughed, trailed his lips over the skin of Merlin’s throat. “I don’t think we’re going to make it to the shower.”

Merlin arched into Arthur’s mouth. “That’s fine with me.”

Merlin knew this would blow up and come back on him. He knew this would end up hurting them both, but he couldn’t say no, not when Arthur glowed in the morning light and his blond hair stuck up, sleep mussed, and he sucked a bruise into Merlin’s shoulder.

 

**Day 399**

 

“All right,” Gwaine said, “who was it?”

Merlin lay in a sleeping bag on the floor of his childhood room. Gwaine was next to him, in Merlin’s cramped bed, his mobile next to his head while he waited for a text from Elena. They’d eaten dinner and watched a holiday special, and Gwaine and Merlin played cards until midnight.

Then they trudged to Merlin’s room.

In the dark of the wee hours of the morning and with the quiet that came with living out in the country, it was difficult to not think about Arthur.

“Who was what?”

“The arsehole who broke your heart. Was it that Gilli person? Or maybe that Freya girl?”

“No one broke my heart.”

“Bullshit,” Gwaine said, his reply immediate. “We all knew you were seeing someone but we couldn’t figure out who. And now they’ve gone and broken our Merlin and I want to exact retribution.”

“Big words for you.”

“Oi, I’m serious.”

Merlin groaned. “They didn’t break my heart. I broke up with them.”

Gwaine propped up on his elbows. “You broke up with them? Why?”

Merlin turned away, burying his face in his pillow. He didn’t want to talk about it. He didn’t want to talk about how Will took an entire year to come around after he had found out about Merlin’s magic, and how those were the worst months of Merlin’s young life. He didn’t want to talk about how Mary had called him a freak when he levitated a bookshelf the first time she’d touched his dick, and how she had run out of his house screaming about witchcraft. He didn’t want to talk about how even Gaius eyed him warily at times, when he moved objects with a thought, or that one instance when he turned a statue of a puppy into an actual puppy.

He could only imagine Arthur’s reaction. He didn’t stay around to see it, had fled like the coward he was. He didn’t want to know.

It would break him. 

Merlin only wanted to enjoy being at his mum’s, even if he was sleeping on the hard floor. And he wanted to avoid the image of Arthur’s face when he told him he didn’t feel the same.

“Because we weren’t suited. He’d have left me anyway when he found out certain things about me.”

“That doesn’t sound very fair.”

“Gwaine–”

“No, hang on. Did you tell them?”

Merlin squeezed his eyes shut. “Sort of.”

“And?”

“And I left right after. I didn’t give them the chance to….” Merlin trailed off. He couldn’t say more, not when he was only being held together by the comfort of his old room, his mother’s presence, the twinkle lights on the tree, and his grandmother’s quilt.

“You left first so they couldn’t leave you? But did you ever stop to think that maybe they wouldn’t? Fuck, Merlin. Maybe they wouldn’t care about whatever you think you’re hiding.”

Merlin sat up. His skin pricked with irritation, his heart ached. He just wanted to be left alone, and clearly this was some kind of intervention. Merlin could see the glow from Gwaine’s mobile.

“Did Elena tell you to say that?”

“Um….”

“Look, it’s all very nice you’re all so interested in poor Merlin, but get this through that thick head of yours. It wouldn’t have worked. He’s a posh, rich, brilliant idiot and I’m me. Merlin, who gets his scarf stuck in doors and has stick-out ears and gets pissed off one beer.”

Gwaine looked stricken and his phone lit up again, and then again. He ignored it, his mouth parted in surprise, and then _realization._

“It was Arthur.”

“Fuck,” Merlin said, collapsing back to the sleeping bag. He grabbed his pillow and squashed it over his face.

 

**Day 194**

 

“And then I told her that our man, Elyan, scored the winning goal and that we all lifted him up on our shoulders and carried him off the pitch.” Percival clapped Elyan on the shoulder and gave him a shake.

The group laughed and Merlin chuckled into his lunch, spearing a wayward tomato that had wandered away from his salad onto the table. It was Friday and Merlin had a short day of lectures. The rest of the group had either finished for the weekend or had one last class. They gathered in the cafeteria, Morgana gracing them with her presence since Leon had a meeting with a professor, and they bantered as Percival regaled them with a story from his and Elyan’s pub crawl the previous weekend.

“And it worked?” Gwaine asked.

Elyan fidgeted and held up his mobile, wide smile splitting across his face. “I have a date tonight.”

Gwaine crowed. “And this, my friends, is why Percival is the king of wingmen.”

Elena lifted a disapproving eyebrow and Gwaine stopped mid movement from where he was going to give Percival a high-five. Instead, she sunk back to his chair.

“Not that I know.”

“Busted,” Merlin snickered.

Gwaine elbowed him in the side.

“Speaking of dates, Merlin,” Morgana said imperiously. (She did everything imperiously.) “I met a fantastic bloke the other day in the library. His name is Mordred and he’s fit and I showed him a picture of you on my mobile and he was interested.”

Merlin groaned. “Morgana,” he said, rubbing a hand down his face. “Why would you do that?”

Arthur thunked his tray of food on the table unnecessarily hard as he joined them. Merlin hadn’t seen him approach, but glancing his way, he could clearly read Arthur’s annoyance. “And what picture of Merlin do you have on your phone that would land him a fit bloke? They’re all of us as drunken louts.” He pulled out his chair and sat down. Under the table, he squeezed Merlin’s thigh.

Merlin did his best not to flinch and he was certain his blush could be played off as embarrassment. His magic curled up warm and snug in his chest at Arthur’s touch.

“It’s the one from the fancy dress party,” Morgana said, pulling her mobile from her purse. She scrolled through and turned it out so everyone could see. “When he went as Sherlock Holmes.”

Merlin could admit it was a flattering picture. It was of his profile, and his hair curled around his ears under the deerstalker hat, and the flash had made his eyes look especially blue.

“Oh, that is a good one,” Gwen agreed. “Very nice.”

“Are you kidding?” Arthur said. He pressed his foot snug to Merlin’s. “He looks like a vampire with as pale as he his. I bet this Mordred person is Team Edward.”

“Arthur!” Gwen admonished, affronted on Merlin’s behalf.

At the same time Morgana said, “It frightens me you know that.”

“Anyway, that’s not important,” Gwaine said, leaning over his tray. “Did you get a picture of the Mordred bloke?”

Elena smacked him on the arm, but leaned in as well. “Did you?”

“Don’t you think that’s a little creepy?” Percival asked.

“About as creepy as you telling that bird Elyan won the game. It was Arthur who took that shot,” Gwen pointed out.

The conversation turned into what would be deemed creepy versus not, with the occasional comment sprinkled in about Merlin’s nonexistent-to-them love life and bets on the last time he was shagged.

Merlin sat back, amused. He had no intention of meeting Mordred, but watching his friends work themselves into a tizzy was entertaining.

But when Arthur turned nearly purple when someone suggested Merlin go out on the pull with Percival as his wingman, Merlin had to intervene.

“Thank you all for your concern about my lack of love life, but I assure you all, I’m fine.”

“Don’t listen to him,” Gwaine whispered conspiratorially. “It’s the lack of sex talking.”

“All right.” Arthur put his arm around Merlin’s shoulders. “Teasing the Merlin time is over.”

“Why? Is it tease the Arthur time now?” Morgana asked, steepling her fingers. “Because that is my favorite time of day.”

The discussion devolved and the topic changed and Merlin found himself zoning out, concentrating instead of the heat of Arthur’s arm draped over his shoulders and the solid press of Arthur’s foot along his.

When the group dispersed, Arthur discreetly tugged on the cuff of Merlin’s hoodie before heading down the road toward his home. Merlin followed a few moments later, begging off that he had some reading to get done if he wanted to have a free weekend.

Stumbling into Arthur’s flat, Merlin dropped his bag and shrugged out of his clothes as Arthur attacked his mouth, kissed him to within an inch of his life, stealing Merlin’s breath and all his thoughts. His touch was intent and possessive and Merlin knew this was one of the times they weren’t going to make it anywhere near the bed.

“Tell me there’s no one else,” Arthur demanded between frantic kisses. “Tell me.”

“There’s no one,” Merlin gasped, as his back hit the floor, his shoulders skidding on the carpet as he raised his hips for Arthur to yank down his jeans. “Only you, Arthur. Only you.”

“Good,” Arthur breathed. “Good, because I don’t want to share.”

Merlin couldn’t reply, couldn’t do much more than wrap his hands around the legs of the coffee table and give in as Arthur sucked him down.

 

**Day 263**

 

Merlin dashed into the A&E, stomach in his throat, panic a wild thing inside his chest making his heart cramp and stutter. He’d received Morgana’s text fifteen minutes ago and Merlin had run the entire way there. He was a disheveled mess, but that didn’t stop him from barreling in and shoving his way to the nurse’s station. He was certain his magic was all but sparking out of his hands because he felt it limning his spine with fire and fear.

“My friend Arthur Pendragon was brought in and—”

He didn’t get half the words out before he heard Morgana’s voice calling him from across the area.

“Merlin! Over here.”

He rushed over and she grabbed him in a hug. “Thank you. The others are on their way but he asked for you and I know you two are close and, oh Merlin.” She pulled away, but took Merlin’s hand, keeping them connected.

In the months Merlin had known Morgana, he’d never seen her cry, not even over the whole Cendred ordeal, but now her eyes welled up.

“What happened? Is he all right? Is he okay?”

“He stepped off the kerb and an idiot driving this ridiculous car ran right into him.”

Merlin felt all the blood rush out of his head, and his world spun. He staggered, and Morgana’s grip tightened on his hand. His magic flared, and it was the only reason he stayed standing, he was certain of it.

“Is he…?” Merlin’s breath caught in his throat. That was all he could push out. And all he could think was how Arthur didn’t know, didn’t know how much Merlin needed him, how much Merlin cared for him. Their friends didn’t even know and fuck.

_Fuck!_

“He’s being bandaged right now. He has a gash on his head, and his arm is a mess and he’s bruised, but he was awake when they brought him in.”

Merlin’s world righted.

“He is awake.”

“Yes, and talking. But he’s going to be in pain and….”

Morgana’s voice fuzzed out. Merlin’s knees were weak and he groped for a chair and sank into it.

Arthur was okay. He was bruised but okay.

Merlin didn’t know how long he sat there, but Morgana stopped talking at one point, and she never let go of his hand. When a doctor came and gave an update and invited them back to see Arthur, Merlin didn’t hesitate.

Morgana pushed back the curtain and let out a small gasp.

Merlin followed and in an effort not to react, bit his lip until he drew blood.

Arthur lay in a bed, his eyes closed, a bandage pressed to a bloody wound on his forehead. He had a black eye and bruised cheek, and his arm was in a sling. From what Merlin could see under the gown, his entire side was bruised.

Morgana burst into tears and Arthur roused, struggling to sit up, his eyes opening to slits.

“Morgana,” he said, voice slurred. “I’m all right.”

Merlin felt awkward. Watching Morgana cry and Arthur try to comfort her with one arm while she composed herself was weird. It felt like intruding. But it was only a few moments until Morgana gathered her wits. She was Uther’s daughter after all, and she wiped the moisture from her eyes. She straightened.

“I’m going to call father and let him know you’re all right. You’ll stay with him?”

Merlin nodded. As she passed, she patted Merlin’s arm, and left the curtained area, already dialing.

Merlin stayed in his spot, frozen.

“Merlin, are you just going to stand there and stare,” Arthur said. “Or are you going to come over here and fawn over me.”

Hearing Arthur’s smug tone broke something inside of Merlin and he felt his own tears gather at the corner of his eyes. He crossed to Arthur’s bed in two strides, and he cupped Arthur’s bruised cheek in his hand and tilted his face up.

Merlin kissed him.

Tears ran down his cheeks, and his breath came in fraught gasps, and his lungs squeezed, and he kissed Arthur, kissed him with everything he had.

“Shh,” Arthur said, pressing reassurances to Merlin’s trembling lips. “I’m okay. I’m okay.”

“I love you,” Merlin whispered. “I love you. I love you.”

And Merlin knew it wasn’t the right time to say it and Merlin knew he shouldn’t. Fuck, he shouldn’t. But Arthur didn’t hold it against him, didn’t crow about it, or even mention the fact that Merlin was falling apart despite it being Arthur who’d been hit and was lying in the hospital bed.

Merlin shuddered and buried his face in Arthur’s neck, and grasped the flimsy hospital gown in his fist. Arthur petted his hair, kissed his temple, and uttered a litany of reassurances into Merlin’s ear.

“Merlin,” he said once Merlin had calmed, his voice soft and kind and drugged, “you’re hurting me.”

Merlin rocketed backward, almost falling on his ass. “Christ, Arthur, I’m sorry. Why didn’t you say?”

“Because I liked it.”

Merlin wiped at his eyes and laughed in relief. “You prat.”

“Yes, insult me while I lay here in immense pain.”

“It wouldn’t be us if I didn’t insult you at least once.”

Arthur huffed but smiled. “Don’t make me laugh, Merlin. It hurts.”

“Well, then, I’ll be on my best behavior.”

Arthur’s eyes drifted close. “Merlin,” he said, suddenly serious, brow furrowed in pain, “me too.”

Merlin’s throat went tight, and he didn’t know if should burst from happiness or run screaming in the other direction.

“You too what, Pendragon?” Gwaine said, entering the room, his usual swagger tempered, more cautious, controlled. Leon and Elyan followed with Gwen and Percival just behind.

“Oh no, who let you lot in,” Arthur said on a groan. “Please tell me Elena stayed in the waiting room. I don’t want to add any more injuries to the list.”

The group crowded in and Merlin allowed himself to be shuffled to the back.

He didn’t want to draw attention to himself, especially with the tear tracks fresh on his cheeks, and he knew his eyes were red and his face flushed. He scrubbed his face with his sleeve.

He leaned against the wall and watched as Arthur held court, even while injured, and his middle fluttered with the thought that Arthur was his.

For at least a little while.

 

**Day 400**

 

Christmas dawned cold and quiet in Ealdor. A fresh layer of snow blanketed the ground and covered everything in the fresh hush of winter. Merlin watched the sun rise, the pink color of dawn bursting over the horizon. He sipped his tea, his hands wrapped around the warm mug.

Gwaine had left the morning previous, holding on to Merlin a little longer than necessary.

“I know you may not realize this, Merlin, but you’re one of the best friends I’ve ever had. And it hurts me that you’re hurting.”

“I’m fine, Gwaine. I really am. Get going and text Elena Happy Christmas for me.”

Now, standing at the window, the tree twinkling next to him, Merlin wished Gwaine was with him. But that wasn’t quite true either.

Merlin wished Arthur was with him.

“Happy Christmas, love,” Hunith said, coming down the stairs. She wrapped her arms around him and squeezed.

“Happy Christmas, mum.”

“I’ll make us breakfast and then we’ll open presents. And then maybe you’ll tell me what’s going on.”

Merlin patted her arm. “Maybe,” he agreed.

She let go and wandered into the kitchen. “I better get started. I’m sure Will is going to be here any minute. And you know how he is.”

Merlin smiled into his mug. “Hungover and ready for a fry up.”

As if on cue, he heard Will’s familiar grumble as he stomped on the front porch and the door open.

“Merlin!” he called. Merlin turned from the window and caught Will in a hug. “Merry Christmas, you twat! I’ve missed you.”

Merlin laughed. “Missed you too.”

Christmas passed in a blur. Will was just like he always was—loud and opinionated, full of spitfire, and affection. Between his familiar bluster and Hunith shoving biscuits and gingerbread at Merlin and Merlin being able to be free with his magic, he only thought of Arthur every other minute instead of every second.

His mobile lit up with texts from Leon and Morgana, Percival, Gwaine, Elyan and Gwen, and Elena.

But nothing from Arthur.

 

**Day 315**

 

Merlin bumped shoulders with Arthur as they walked down the pavement. Arthur licked his ice cream obscenely, and Merlin squirmed with affection and lust. Arthur’s bruises had faded, his arm no longer in the sling, and he no longer limped. With his head tilted back, the sun glinting off his hair, he was beautiful and Merlin loved him.

Merlin averted his eyes before he walked into a lamp post which was entirely probable. He took a sip of his strawberry milkshake.

It was as close to a date they’d ever gone on. They didn’t date. They fucked. They hung out. They professed their love for each other in dire situations. Merlin knew every inch of Arthur. He knew all his hopes and his dreams. He knew he feared both not living up to his father’s expectations but becoming too much like him as well. Merlin knew it all, gleaned it from texts and late night phone calls, and quiet conversations whispered in the dark when they were both sated, tangled in sheets, sweat drying on their skin.

And Arthur knew everything about Merlin. Almost. He knew about Merlin’s absent father, his mother working all the time, the bullying he endured, the fear of loneliness that followed Merlin when he moved from Ealdor to the city.

He didn’t know about the magic though.

That was the one thing Merlin was too terrified to tell.

As they walked, their hands brushed. Once. Twice. And on the third time, Arthur caught Merlin’s fingers in his own.

At first, Merlin thought it was a mistake, but when he looked back at Arthur, he saw the small, self-satisfied smile on Arthur’s lips.

Merlin pulled his hand out of Arthur’s grasp, terrified, and shoved it in his pocket.

Arthur’s smile dropped away, but he didn’t push, didn’t press. He merely hunched his shoulders and dropped his ice cream in the next trash can they passed.

 

**Day 385**

 

“Let’s go out,” Arthur said, as soon as Merlin walked into the flat.

Merlin dropped his bag and unwound his scarf. The weather had turned gross, icy slush was everywhere, and Merlin felt nearly frozen. He had just turned in his last paper for the end of term and Merlin was due back to Ealdor in a few days. He had looked forward to a night in with Arthur, takeout and sex in the glow of Arthur’s tiny Christmas tree. And maybe Merlin would work up the nerve to give Arthur the stupid little present he’d purchased for him.

But Arthur looked hopeful and excited, so Merlin shook off his exhaustion and tried not to focus on how the cold had seeped into his bones.

“Yeah, sure,” he said, leaning in to brush his frigid lips across Arthur’s mouth. “The pub?”

Arthur backed away, ran his hands through his hair. “No, I mean, like a date. Let’s go out on a date.”

Merlin’s stomach dropped. He knew this was coming, had seen it a long way off, but he’d hoped they could at least get through the hols.

“Arthur,” he started, voice soft.

But Arthur cut him off.

“What Merlin?” he snapped. He paced the room. “What’s going on here?” he demanded, gesturing between the two of them. “What’s the problem with wanting to go out with my boyfriend on an actual date?”

Merlin’s shoulders drooped. He rubbed his hand across his eyes. “Arthur, I can’t.”

“Why? Tell me why. Are you ashamed of us?”

“What! No!” Merlin crossed the room, but Arthur avoided him, stepped around him.

“Then what is it? And don’t give me that bollocks about us not working out. It’s been almost a year and the only thing hurting this relationship is that for some inexplicable reason you don’t want anyone to know.”

Merlin sighed. This was it. The day he’d been dreading since they first hooked up last winter. It was an odd sort of relief that it was finally there.

“Arthur, there are things you don’t know about me.”

“Bullshit,” Arthur said. “I know everything. I know how you take your tea and where you’re ticklish and the name of your cat that ran away when you were a child. I know your favorite food and all your idiosyncrasies and there is nothing you could tell me that would make me want to be with you any less.”

“No, you’d just have me psychiatrically assessed.”

Arthur stopped short. “What does that even mean?”

Merlin ignored the question. His stomach was in knots. His throat was so tight with panic and tears he didn’t know if he was even able to speak again. He didn’t want it to be over. But it was over.

He half-thought about revealing his magic right then, about making the books from Arthur’s bookshelf fly across the room or levitating all the furniture a few inches from the ground.

But no, he’d rather Arthur hate him than be terrified of him.

So Merlin closed his eyes, and like a coward, he lied.

“Because I don’t care for you the same way you care for me.”

The statement shocked Arthur into stillness, but only for a moment, and then Merlin heard frantic footsteps cross the room.

“I don’t believe you.”

When Arthur spoke, he was so close, and Merlin snapped his eyes open to meet Arthur’s gaze. 

Merlin had hurt Arthur. He saw it, staring back at him, and he wanted to sink into the ground, disappear and never see that look on Arthur’s face again.

But then Arthur’s hands were on Merlin’s shoulders and he backed Merlin against the wall. His eyes were blue and they glistened with tears, and he clenched his jaw the way he did when he was being particularly stubborn.

“That’s not true,” he whispered, his breath hot on Merlin’s mouth. “That’s not true. You said, in the hospital room.”

“I was scared. Of course I said it.”

“Merlin.”

And Arthur’s voice had gone soft, taken on a quality Merlin only heard in the dark quiet of their nights together, affectionate and concerned, and filled with love and patience.

And Merlin trembled. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t.

“Why are you pushing me away?” Arthur asked. “What are you so afraid of?”

“This,” Merlin said.

He held out his hand and his eyes flashed gold and a ball of light appeared above his palm. It floated there, harmless, but bright and Merlin sent it across the room to hover over Arthur’s Christmas tree and it broke into sparkles which fell in a cascade over the branches.

Merlin stared at Arthur’s profile as Arthur watched the sparks settle and twinkle.

“Psychiatrically assessed,” Arthur breathed.

And that was enough for Merlin. He pushed his way out of the cage of Arthur’s arms, and ran to the door. He snatched his bag from the floor and ran out of the flat.

Arthur didn’t follow.

Merlin knew he wouldn’t.

 

**Day 401**

 

“Mum, where do you want me to put this?” Merlin asked, holding the Tardis teapot Will had gifted Hunith the day before. “Do you want to display it or hide it?” Merlin squinted at it and turned it from side to side. “Mum?”

“Sweetheart, there’s an expensive looking car struggling to come up the road in the snow. Is it someone you know?”

Merlin’s heart skipped a beat. He set the Tardis down before he dropped it. It couldn’t be. Arthur wouldn’t… he didn’t even know where… fuck.

“Oh, the poor man. He’s struggling. Merlin, go help him.”

Merlin didn’t look out of the window. He grabbed his coat and twined a scarf around his neck. Shoving his beanie down on his head, he took a shaky breath, and trudged into the snow.

Arthur had abandoned trying to get his car up the drive and now flailed around in the powdery snow, cursing. His hair was littered with flakes but still golden. He fell once, cursed again, and yelled into his phone.

“Gwaine, this better not be some prank of yours or….” He trailed off when he looked up and saw Merlin approaching. “I have to go.”

“Arthur, what are you doing here?” Merlin asked. His heart pounded so hard he thought it might burst out of his chest. His middle fluttered with hope.

“I found you.”

“Yes, you have.”

Arthur stared. He wore a coat but no gloves or hat. His breath hung in cloudy puffs. He shivered as he stood knee deep in a drift.

He looked ridiculous and perfect. 

Merlin offered him a tentative smile.

Arthur shook his head and pointed over his shoulder. “My car is stuck.”

“I can tell.”

There was another awkward silence. Merlin shifted. He rocked back on his heels, hands shoved in his pockets.

“Gwaine said you were being rather pathetic, and he promised bodily harm if I didn’t fix it.” Arthur swallowed. “And I couldn’t bear the thought of you having a bad Christmas.”

“Arthur—”

“No, Merlin, no. Listen. I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry? Arthur, I’m the one who owes you an apology. I’m the one who let us get too deep. I should’ve stopped it but I couldn’t. Because you’re… you’re everything I’ve ever wanted and I couldn’t let you go. I should’ve let you go.”

“What? No!” Arthur stumbled forward, shouting. “What the hell? Merlin, I love you. I love you, magic floating balls of light or not.”

“But I _hurt_ you.”

“You were scared.”

“Don’t make excuses for me!”

“I’m not,” Arthur moved closer. He reached out and fingered the end of Merlin’s scarf, his brow furrowed. “Believe me, I’m not. I’m still angry, and I’m hurt you felt like you couldn’t trust me. Even after everything I told you.” He leaned in, his breath hot on Merlin’s chilled skin. He skimmed his nose over Merlin’s cheekbone. “But I missed you and I love you.”

Merlin closed his eyes as Arthur brushed his lips over his. Merlin shuddered, but not from the cold.

“I love you, Arthur.”

“I know.”

“And I want to tell you everything.”

“Good. I can’t promise I won’t… need a minute. But like I said there’s nothing you can say that will make me love you any less.”

Merlin smiled wide, fit to burst, his magic filling him up with warmth despite the frigid temperature. Arthur grinned, pulled Merlin closer by his scarf, and pressed his smile to Merlin’s. They kissed and Merlin laughed and Arthur kissed him again.

“Merlin?”

“Yes, Arthur?”

“I’m freezing. Can we go inside?”

Merlin chuckled. “Yes. And I’m sure my mum wants an explanation. I’m certain she’s been watching this entire time.”

“Well, I hope she doesn’t mind me violating her son,” Arthur said, dipping his hands down the curve of Merlin’s ass. “Because I don’t want to hide anymore.”

“We won’t. I promise you. I want to tell the entire world. And honestly, I think she’ll be happy I’m not moping anymore.”

“So, you were moping?”

“Unbelievably.”

Arthur smirked.

Merlin rolled his eyes.

They still had several things to work out—Merlin’s fear and Arthur’s anger. But at that moment, as Merlin used his magic to clear a path for Arthur’s car, and after he dragged Arthur to the door to meet his mother, everything was wonderful and perfect.

And Merlin wasn’t afraid.

The End.


End file.
